


Where the heavens are shallow as the sea is now deep

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-04
Updated: 2006-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inara wavers between the two lives she's living; she knows the time is nearing when she will have to make a choice, and she's not sure she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the heavens are shallow as the sea is now deep

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to fleurdeleo for listening and brainstorming, to amberlynne for helping out when I was stuck, and to Kass and Laura for betaing above and beyond the call of duty. All remaining errors are mine alone. Title is from "Insomnia" by Elizabeth Bishop.

She and Mal are kinder to each other now, and Inara is thankful for it, but the kindness feels less honest than the barbs they used to toss back and forth with impunity. She has never been one to believe that the truth must be brutal, but she can't help wondering if they've lost something essential by smoothing away the jagged edges of their emotions. Her feelings remain, confusing as ever, and she can feel the pent-up desire in Mal's body whenever he stands close to her--sense the quivering in his muscles beneath skin and clothing, hear it in the hitch of his breath as he inhales the scent of her hair, washed carefully with expensive jasmine shampoo (used sparingly these past few weeks, to make it last while they are out on the rim) just so it will attract his notice.

But he never takes that last step, never reaches out and touches her, not even in the friendly, comforting way he does Kaylee, and, more and more lately, River.

He spends most of his time up on the bridge with River now--River, who looks at him with stars in her eyes, the natural ally Wash never was. He takes advantage of the fact, using her abilities to pull jobs he'd never have considered--and nobody else would have gone along with--just a few months ago, because the girl won't--can't--say no to him. Inara's not sure he even knows he's doing it.

Not everyone is as oblivious as Mal.

Simon comes by her shuttle one evening--he looks more at home amidst the rich furnishings than most of her clients, and she's reminded again of what he's given up--and asks if he can speak with her. He is deferential, polite, and yet he sits down before she can say anything, as if her answer is a foregone conclusion.

"Tea?" she offers.

He inclines his head and smiles. "Thank you. That would be lovely."

They talk of inconsequential things as the tea steeps--books they've both read, favorite pieces of music, the last time he saw the New Bolshoi perform on Osiris.

"River could have danced with them," he says as she hands him the porcelain cup, as if he is a client--no, she corrects herself, because he is a friend. "Though I don't know if she really wanted to. She--" He shifts, obviously uncomfortable now. "She had--has as lot of different interests." He puts the cup down gently, long surgeon's fingers splayed out on his thighs. She can feel the tension in him, wonders if he ever manages to relax, if Kaylee sees a looser side of him in private. "It's normal, right?"

She suppresses the urge to smile at his awkwardness. "To have many different interests?"

His fingers tighten. "For River to follow Mal around like--like--"

"Like a teenage girl with her first crush?"

Simon exhales in a rush. "Is that what it is? I mean, I--" He sounds relieved, if confused.

"I think so." She takes a sip of tea. "He's an attractive man and he's kind to her. She's young and hasn't had much in the way of kindness in her life." Another sip of tea. "It could be worse."

"Worse?"

Now she lets the smile--mischievous, amused--bloom wide (but not too wide). "It could be Jayne."

Simon shudders. "Jayne."

"Just so."

Simon picks up his teacup again, turns it around in his hands before drinking. "So, what do I do?"

"Do?" She shrugs a shoulder. "There's nothing to _do_ , Simon. It'll pass; either she'll grow out of it or he'll do something to tumble down off that pedestal she's got him on." The latter sooner than the former, she thinks, but she doesn't say it.

"And he--"

"Probably hasn't even noticed." Simon still looks worried, though, so she puts a hand on his arm and says, "Mal is many things, but a despoiler of innocents is not one of them."

"River is very good at getting what she wants," he replies, shaking his head. "She's hard to refuse. And I don't know what she knows--" He shakes his head. "It's hard to gauge her development, to know if she understands what it really is that she wants--if she really wants it, or just the, the idea of it--and what the consequences of getting it would be."

"She's an eighteen-year-old girl, Simon. I'm sure she has some idea." She sets her teacup down on the table and folds her hands in her lap. He still looks skeptical. "Though, of course, she's your sister. I imagine these are the sorts of things brothers prefer not to think about too closely."

"Yes." He makes a vague gesture. "Perhaps you could speak to him...."

She isn't sure it's a good idea, but she would like to assuage Simon's anxiety if she can, so she makes her way to the bridge the next morning, far earlier than she normally would. River is in the co-pilot's seat already, and Mal is leaning over her, pointing out something Inara can't see. River's laugh rings out like silver bells, and Mal's rumbles low beneath it.

Suddenly she understands why Simon is worried--there is something intimate, almost lover-like, about their posture--it's no wonder River is getting the wrong idea. Inara feels as if she's intruding, and tells herself to stop being foolish. She doesn't move, and doesn't think she's made a sound, but River's laughter cuts off abruptly, and they both turn to face her.

"You're up and about early," Mal says, something like amusement in his eyes. "Come to see the sun rise?"

"It's beautiful," she agrees. "There's always something magical about seeing it from here."

Before he can answer, River unfolds herself from her seat and gives Inara an assessing look. Inara's prepared for it, though; her mind is clear, calm, centered. River dips and sways off the bridge, dancing to music only she can hear.

They both stare after her for a moment, and Mal murmurs, as if to himself, "She does have a way about her, don't she?"

"Mal."

He nods, startled, as if he's forgotten her presence, which she knows is a pretense. He is as minutely aware of her as she is of him.

"Imagine you have some business to discuss, you're up this early." He settles down in the pilot's chair and gestures toward the seat River has just vacated.

She gathers her skirts and sits. "Simon's concerned about River," she says.

"Nothing new in that. One of his better qualities, really." He gives her a small smile. "She's getting along pretty well, don't you think?"

"A little too well with some people for Simon's comfort, perhaps."

"Well..." he starts, and his smile fades as her meaning sinks in. "Well," he says again. "That's--I could have a word with Jayne if you think--"

"Jayne is not the problem."

Mal bolts to his feet, all amiability gone. "Hey now, that's a hell of a thing to accuse a man of."

"Nobody's accusing you of anything, Mal," she says, tamping down her surprise at how quickly he jumped to the wrong conclusion, and her exasperation at his eagerness to take offense. She promises herself she won't let him draw her into an argument over this; they've been getting along so well lately, and besides, River's feelings are too important to quarrel over. "But surely you've noticed the change in her behavior."

"She's doing better. No more screaming at odd hours, and she only comes over all freakish every once in a while. Even that's not so bad now we know she's probably making sense somehow underneath it all, trying to tell us something could be helpful."

Her fingers tighten around the armrest and she has to will herself to stay calm in the face of his deliberate obtuseness. "She follows you around like a--a puppy begging for scraps."

"She's learning Serenity, learning the job. Be better at it than all of us put together in time, a real asset to my crew. Wait and see." He sounds ridiculously proud.

"It's more than that, and if you paid her any attention--"

"Okay, first you say I'm paying her too much attention and now you say I ain't paying her enough? What in hell are you getting at, Inara? Just spit it out and be done. I ain't up to talking in polite circumlocutions today."

She takes a slow, deep breath, counts to five, and imagines floating alone in a clear blue lake, no one else around for miles.

"The girl is infatuated with you, Mal." She's pleased with how calm she sounds, how rational, how she hasn't let him rile her and gain the upper hand.

"No." He shakes his head, swings around so his back is to her, and pushes a hand through his hair, agitated. "No. No. No."

"It's perfectly natural--"

"That's as may be, but--" He turns toward her again, and his face is set, determined.

"She's eighteen years old, Mal. She's physically healthy and naturally curious. You're not encouraging her--"

"I'm really not!"

 _Renci de Fozu_. "I didn't say you were. You don't have to. Nature is taking its course."

He straightens his shoulders, raises his chin. There's a challenging glint in his eye. "So you think it's natural for a girl to find me fanciable?"

"When her other choices are Jayne or her brother, yes." He deflates a little at that. "You're kind to her, which means a lot." She rises, takes a step toward him. "And you're not unattractive," she teases.

"Thank you ever so much," he answers, taking her hand and bowing over it.

"If you two are done playing lords and ladies, we got cargo to prep," Jayne says, tromping onto the bridge.

Mal lets go of her hand with a rueful smile and turns to the console. "Be right with you," he calls over his shoulder to Jayne.

"You'll let her down easy, won't you?" she asks.

"Uh...I'll do my best," he answers, but she can tell he's already moved onto the next thing. It will have to suffice.

Inara heads to the kitchen, pleased the conversation went as well as it did. River is sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and Inara smiles at her. "Perhaps you could come by the shuttle later," she says, knowing how much River usually enjoys visiting her, and hoping the diversion will soothe any hurt feelings, "and I could do your hair."

River scowls at the spoonful of oatmeal in her hand and, in a polite voice Inara imagines was drilled into her when she was a small child, says, "No, thank you, though it's very kind of you to offer. Maybe some other time." She drops the spoon into the bowl with a clatter. "Don't force the bud if you don't want the flower to bloom." She leaves, meal half-eaten.

Inara sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wondering if she'd ever been so young. On the other hand, perhaps River's fit of the sullens, however irritating, should be seen as a sign of her slow journey towards normality. Inara decides she likes that interpretation, and tries to quash her foreboding that River won't get over this so easily.

Later that evening, Simon stops by to thank her, and she invites him in for tea again. He is easy to talk to--they spend half an hour laughing over the most recent scandals they've read about on the Cortex, like the Rothschild heir, who ran off with his valet the morning of his wedding; and the first violinist for the Ariel City Philharmonic, who is sleeping with the very married conductor.

"I went to school with her, you know. Very talented girl," Simon says nostalgically. "She had great hands."

"I can imagine," Inara replies wryly. The grin he gives her is mischievous, and she returns it before she can think of a reason not to.

For a moment, Inara feels more like herself than she has in years, the self she almost never shows to anyone on Serenity. She is always on her guard here, though she knows she doesn't always have to be. With Kaylee she can sometimes remember who she was, a girl among many girls, dreaming of pretty dresses and fancy balls and handsome partners, but those moments are fleeting.

Even now, when she feels more a part of this crew than she ever has before, she still dons her make-up and her dresses each morning before she leaves her shuttle; she doesn't wear as much as she used to, but she can't quite bring herself to give it up completely. She wavers between the two lives she's living, and knows the time is nearing when she will have to make a choice. She's not sure she'll be able to.

She'd thought perhaps the Alliance would make it for her, that she would be tarred with the same outlaw brush as Mal and the others, and she'd resigned herself to that--welcomed the decision being taken out of her hands, really--but when she contacted the training house in the aftermath, they'd welcomed her with open arms, asked her to come back for good. She'd thanked them and said she'd think about it, but she'd expected to stay on Serenity. She'd expected to have a reason to.

"Inara?" Simon sounds concerned, and he lays a gentle hand on her arm, the touch impersonal, professional, one she's very familiar with herself.

"I'm so sorry," she says, blinking, "I must be more tired than I thought." He doesn't question the lie, though she suspects he knows it is one.

"I can go--"

"No, please. I--" She smiles ruefully. "It's been a long time since I've forgotten myself like that. Since I've been comfortable enough to forget myself."

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" he asks, and though his voice is assured, professional (ah, that word again, always with them), his hand is still on her arm.

It's tempting to give in, to share her thoughts, her concerns, with someone who might understand. But she knows she can't. "Nothing of interest." He looks as if he might argue, so she begins to gather the teacups, silently signaling it's time for him to go, even though she's just asked him to stay. Simon, trained just as punctiliously as she in these matters, rises with a half-smile.

"Thank you again," he says. "And if you ever would like to talk--"

"I know where to find you, yes." She rises as well, leans in and gives him a brief, chaste kiss on the cheek.

They both know she never will.

***

"Gorrammit, River, you could've gotten yourself killed--could've gotten us all killed with your crazy antics!" Mal is yelling at River up on the bridge and his voice reverberates through the ship.

Inara sits at the table with Jayne and Kaylee, and none of them will meet the other's eyes. The past few days have been tense, with River stomping around in a sulk because Mal has taken to avoiding her when he can and yelling at her when he can't. It's all come to a very loud, very nasty head after the job on Ezra this morning. "This ain't a game, River. Stunts like that are dangerous, and bad for business. Got no call to be pulling 'em--"

"I know--"

"I don't think you do! Too young to be--"

"I'm not stupid, Mal, and I'm not a child!"

River comes flying through the doorway, hair whipping behind her like a flag in the wind, and runs from the room.

Inara catches Kaylee's eye and they rise at the same time, Kaylee rushing after River while Inara goes to the bridge and closes the door behind her. Mal is standing with his hands braced against the back of the pilot's chair, staring out into the black. His jaw is clenched and his knuckles are white.

"I realize you're trying to do the right thing," she begins softly, "but perhaps you're going a little overboard."

He doesn't turn. "What?"

"With River. Perhaps you could treat her more gently? She's trying her best to help, after all."

He shoots her a hard glare over his shoulder, the likes of which she hasn't seen from him in a while. "She could've been hurt this morning, could've gotten the lot of us killed. I'm more worried 'bout our lives than her feelings."

"You know what she's capable of, Mal. Maybe you should give her more credit--"

He swings around to face her, thumbs hooked in his suspenders. "It's your rutting advice I'm following in the first place," he snaps. "You change your mind or something?"

"My advice? I didn't--Mal, I just wanted to make you aware of the situation--"

"So's I could do something about it. Which I am."

"Yes," she says dryly. "I've noticed."

"Look, if you don't like the way I'm handling it--"

"She's a young girl, Mal. You could show some care for her feelings."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to encourage her."

 _Sweet, merciful Buddha,_ she thinks, _give me strength._ She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "There's a difference between not flirting with her, and being a _húndàn_. You've never raised your voice like that to Kaylee."

"Kaylee's--Kaylee. It's different."

"It's not, actually."

He pushes a hand through his hair. "Kaylee's never pulled a damn fool stunt like that," he says, voice rising. "River could've gotten herself killed today, and the rest of us with her, trying to prove something don't need proving, and then where would we be? I was like to have a heart attack when I saw what she was doing."

"She gave you a scare," she says, laying a hand on his arm; she can feel the tension in him, tightly wound and ready to explode again. She wishes she could ease it, but she can't offer until he shows himself receptive to it. "Anyone might have responded the way you did. But it might be a good idea to let her know that's why you're so angry. It's much easier to be forgiving when you understand."

He pats her hand almost absently, no lingering slide of his fingers against her skin. "You may just be right. _Xièxie nî._ " And he turns away.

She blinks at the abrupt dismissal, but walks away somewhat pleased. If he apologizes to River, perhaps the girl will stop her sulking, and the odd tension in the air will dissipate. It's giving Inara a headache.

Unfortunately, he takes his sweet time about it, and River disappears into one of her hidey-holes for the rest of the day. She doesn't come to dinner, and though Kaylee tries, the conversation is awkward, constrained, and Inara's headache only gets worse. She can only imagine what it must feel like for River, and she spares a sympathetic thought for her; she of all people understands how trying Mal can be. On the other hand, perhaps this will be the wake up call the girl needs to snap out of her infatuation. Inara knows lesser things ruin greater romances all the time.

The continued throbbing behind her left eye makes it hard for her to sleep that night, so Inara goes to the kitchen and fixes herself a cup of chamomile tea. She's heading back to her shuttle when she hears them.

"Come on out, River. I ain't mad at you. Just gave me a good scare this morning, is all."

River pokes her head out of the storage space but says nothing.

"That space is meant for cargo," Mal goes on. "Ain't no place for a girl in there."

"Might as well be cargo, the way you act."

Inara stops, caught, but they don't notice her at all. People so rarely look up, even when it would save them trouble. Of course, eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves, either, she thinks, amused.

Mal crouches down in front of the open panel, focused completely on River, whose white face stands out against the darkness behind her.

"Don't say things like that, _bâobèi_."

"Simon packed me as cargo."

"Most precious cargo we ever carried. You know that."

"You set me free, made me a girl again. Why can't you see I need to be a woman now?"

Inara barely refrains from gasping at such plain speaking, any amusement she'd felt gone. The girl has no shame, no sense of how desperate she appears, and Mal isn't discouraging her.

"I see it just fine, darlin', but it ain't for me--"

"For you most of all." River reaches out, cups his cheek, and he lets her for a moment before he rises. She follows, unfolding herself with the dancer's grace that would make her the envy of half the Companions in the 'verse. "So cold and lonely out in the black, but you don't have to be. We don't have to be alone."

"River--"

"When I sleep, I dream," she says, "I dream you love me, my heart in your hands, your hands on my body."

He swallows, looks away. "Shouldn't say such things."

"I feel it but I shouldn't say it? _Gŏu pì_. I feel _you_ , Mal, pulsing in my veins like blood. When I sleep, I dream, but when I wake, I _know_. You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me, not when I can feel you singing inside me." She sways toward him and he stops her with his hands on her shoulders, dark against the pale blue dress she's wearing.

"Maybe I can't lie to you, maybe I do feel these things--I ain't saying I do or I don't--but either way, it doesn't matter. Feeling a thing don't make it right. Can't act on every feeling takes your fancy. 'Verse don't work that way." His voice is low and hoarse, but Inara hears it perfectly well in the late night silence of the ship, and it sends a chill through her. Her hand trembles and her tea sloshes in its cup, and her world turns itself inside out on the hinge of his words.

"You don't care how the 'verse works," River says. "Why start now?" He opens his mouth to respond and she kisses him. His hands tighten on her shoulders, as if he can't decide whether to hold on or to let go, but even occupied as they are, Inara's gasp is loud enough to get their attention. They spring apart guiltily, and a small part of her is reminded of the soap operas she used to download illegally off the Cortex when she was a novice, melodramatic stories of lust and infidelity she'd devoured in secret like cheap candy, even as she's trying to process the real life drama she's actually just seen.

Before she can speak--before she can even decide what she wants to say in the face of this betrayal--River meets her gaze squarely and says, "You say no when you want to say yes, and you think I should do the same. But I've seen what it's done to you, and I can't live like that." Her bare feet are silent on the metal deck as she walks away, regal as a princess.

Mal moves to the stairs, but Inara shakes her head. "I can't even look at you right now," she says. It pleases her that her voice doesn't quiver or break, but though she hasn't raised the volume, it sounds loud and echoes oddly in the large, silent space. He has the grace to look abashed at least, dropping his gaze and turning away, one hand rubbing at his furrowed brow.

She holds herself carefully as she walks toward her shuttle, concentrating on the in-and-out rhythm of her breathing. She feels as though she might disintegrate if the air blows the wrong way across her skin. Her whole body is shaking as she sinks down onto her bed, and she wraps her arms around her knees and buries her face in her pillow as she cries (and even now, a small part of her is thankful she's not wearing any makeup that will stain the pillowcases).

She thinks of all the times he almost touched her but never closed the distance, and wonders how she could have so misread the situation. She remembers all the times his words were honed and aimed like knives to flay her open, and wonders why she wanted to.

When the first storm of crying is over, she forces herself up from the bed to get a cold cloth for her eyes. She can't stomach the idea of revealing the true depth of her upset to him, can't imagine facing him--facing herself--looking less than her best.

In the morning, she sits down at her mirror and applies her makeup with hands that do not shake. She's centering herself, preparing to face them--she's sure everyone knows, that word of her humiliation has somehow filtered into everyone's consciousness, though she doesn't think Mal would actually embarrass her like that and there's no other way for anyone to know--when there's a knock at her door. Her heart leaps. Perhaps River has spoken to Simon, and he's come to see her. Simon is her natural ally in this; he'll know how to best handle River, and together they can come up with a strategy for dealing with Mal.

She waits a moment--until her smile feels natural--and then calls out, "Come in."

Mal ducks into the shuttle and she stiffens in shock--in rage--at his sheer effrontery.

"Get out." She is clenching her jaw as she speaks, but her voice is level, and she's proud of that.

"You just invited me in."

"I thought you were Simon."

He looks like he's going to say something about that, but for once in his miserable existence, he practices discretion. She thinks it may be a first. All he says is, "Well, I ain't. I was hoping we could talk."

"How dare you?"

"Inara, please." He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, and she wonders if he slept last night, then ruthlessly cuts off her concern for him. "You think I planned this? You think I _wanted_ it?" He starts pacing the short length of the shuttle.

"You weren't exactly pushing her away last night."

"Don't think I don't know what kind of man that makes me. I was trying--I was following your advice."

"I must have forgotten the part where I told you to kiss her." She stands, curling her hands into fists so she doesn't claw his eyes out. "Don't you dare try to turn this back on me."

"I've been following your advice," he repeats as if she hasn't spoken. "The whole gorram time I've been doing what you told me, trying to avoid this very situation, and now somehow, I'm the bad guy? How exactly does that work?"

"You didn't deny it. She asked if you had feelings for her and you didn't say no like any _decent, sensible_ man would have."

"The girl's a mind reader. You don't think she'd know if I was lying? And how is lying to her the decent thing if she knows it's a lie?"

Her voice is rising and she can't stop it, all her years of training, control, gone because of this infuriating man. "You should have said, 'It's just an infatuation, it'll pass. Soon you'll realize I'm a miserable, lying _húndàn_ who'll only use you and break your heart.'"

He shakes his head as if he can't believe what she's saying. "Is this about River, or is it about you?"

"Maybe it's about you being _wúnéug de rén_."

"I never made you no damn promises, Inara." He leans toward her, voice rising hard. "I don't know a gorram thing about the state of your heart. I never have. Times I've thought you ain't even got one."

She forces herself not to flinch at that. "You brought me back here."

"To rescue you," he shouts, flinging his arms wide. "You're the one who decided to stay."

"Because I thought you _wanted_ me to." And now she sounds as desperate as River, and maybe she's the one who doesn't know anything, because if she did, she'd have remembered how much this feeling hurts, and she'd done an excellent job of forgetting that until last night. "I thought you wanted me, and I've been waiting for you to do something about it."

"You got a funny way of showing it, then. Last time I did something about it, you left." And now his voice is low, harsh, and she shivers at the pained anger in it. "Pardon me for thinking that was a no."

"So now it's all my fault?"

"Well, if you want to get technical about it."

"Maybe if you ever showed some of that courage you're apparently so famous for--"

His eyes widen and his mouth goes tight, and she realizes she's gone too far. "This is my ship," he grinds out, hoarse and low, like skin scraping over gravel, " _my ship_. This is the one place in the 'verse I don't have to take shit like that from anyone, not even you."

"This is my shuttle," she corrects him, as coldly and calmly as she can while he moves towards the door, as if he's going to leave before she can throw him out, which makes her even angrier, "and I believe I'm paid up for the month, so get the hell out."

At the door he turns and says wearily, "What's happened ain't nobody's _fault_ , Inara. It just _is_."

"Oh, save that _gŏu pì_ for someone who'll believe it," she snaps, but he's gone. She turns and picks up the hairbrush from her vanity and flings it as hard as she can after him, enjoying the satisfying thunk of it against the metal door, and wishing it were his head.

She sinks back down into the chair, ashamed at losing her temper so badly and shrieking at him like a fishwife, but the anger feels better--more honest--than their recent (false, she wonders now) courtesy has. She rests her head in her hands for a moment, feeling drained, emptied. Perhaps this is a good thing, she thinks, for both of them. The wounds have been purged, and healing can begin.

She wishes she believed it.

She spends most of the day in her shuttle, attempting to meditate. Kaylee knocks once and asks if she's all right, but Inara sends her away with a simple, "I have a headache, _bâobèi_. I'll be fine."

When she is calm and centered, she tries to be rational, to decide if she will pack up and leave again, like a disgraced combatant leaving the field of honor, metaphorical tail between her legs, or if she will stay on this ship she loves, among these people she holds so dear. Even if she wants to kill one of them right now.

It pains her to think about leaving. She's only just finished unpacking her things, setting the shuttle to rights again, making it feel like home again. And Serenity does feel like home to her now, more than the training house, more than Sihnon. But she's not sure staying is an option anymore.

She watches and waits until they land on Paquin, and Mal leaves, flanked by Zoe and Jayne. She checks her hair and her makeup, makes sure every fold of her gown falls precisely where it's meant to. All her armor--useless in this case, but still comforting--is in place. Even if her heart and her expectations have been shredded, her pride must be kept intact.

River is on the bridge, curled up in the pilot's chair. "You say it's not a zero-sum game, but with him it is," she says. "Someone wins, someone has to lose."

Inara closes her eyes for a moment, draws a deep breath, and exhales slowly. "And you think you're the winner?"

"Too soon to tell." River swivels around to face her, but her gaze is a million miles away, the look of a woman in love, thinking of her beloved. "Not ripe yet. But let things linger too long, and sweet turns to sour." For a moment, she looks her age, looks like a girl contemplating her first romance, and Inara fiercely wants her to have that happiness, even if it ends in heartbreak--her own or River's or both--but she can't let go of her anger at Mal. Not yet. "Holding on too long is just as bad as letting go too soon. I don't want to wither on the vine. Want to bloom and grow."

"We all want that for you, _mèimei_ ," Inara says, slipping to her knees in front of River and taking her hand. River's fingers, long and white and cool, twine with hers. "River, you know I'm not angry with you, don't you?"

"I know." River smiles at her, her face soft and radiant as a white camellia in the first rosy blush of dawn, her hand holding tight to Inara's. "I know."

***

She finds Simon in the infirmary, doing inventory. She leans against the doorjamb, watching, waiting for him to notice her. When he looks up from his drawer of syringes, she takes a deep breath and prepares to speak. Until the words have come out of her mouth, she's not sure what she's going to say, which is slightly terrifying now that she's not out of her head with anger.

"She'll need you to pick up the pieces when he breaks her heart."

He gives her a small, rueful smile. "What makes you think it's her heart that's going to be broken? Not that, medically speaking, hearts actually break."

That brings her up short and gives her a moment to collect herself. "You were worried--"

"I was. I _am_. I don't think--" He shakes his head. "I won't lie. I hope nothing comes of it. I'm not comfortable in any way, shape, or form with the situation, and I told Mal that when he came to see me this morning."

She blinks in astonishment. "He came to see you." He's always been able to surprise her; she should have remembered that.

"He wanted me to know he had no dishonorable intentions towards my sister. No intentions at all, he said. He implied that all the intentions were on River's part, which, well," he laughs ruefully, "would not surprise me. River is...." He runs a hand through his hair, and she's reminded that for all his often serious demeanor and his medical training, he's still a year or two younger than she is, and even after a year on Serenity, he's still rather sheltered. "River is convinced this is something she wants, and that he wants it as well, even if he claims not to. And I want her to be happy, most of all, so if this will do it...." He trails off, sounding as bewildered as she still feels by the whole thing. "It's obvious he--well, I think he _cares_ at any rate, and given her particular...talents, I think she'd know, probably before he did. It's hard _not_ to love her, so I can't blame him if he does. Though I admit, I prefer not to think about anybody actually, um, _loving_ her. Let alone the captain. I mean, she _is_ my little sister." He mimes a shudder and she smiles. "But as someone recently said to me, at least it's not Jayne." Her smile blossoms into a laugh, and she can feel something ease in her chest.

"I have no doubt this whole thing will make him more ornery than usual, until he accepts it. Both of them will be unfit to live with until they sort themselves out, one way or another. But they will sort themselves out, I think. River's too smart not to." His smile widens into a grin. "I did mention that she's hard to resist, didn't I? I don't think the captain stands a chance. I just have to keep pretending it's something happening in a play, instead of to my sister."

"Oh, Simon," she says, laying a hand on his arm. "I suppose that will make two of us pretending our lives haven't been turned into bad farce." He looks chagrined, and she shakes her head. "Nothing is ever as easy as it seems."

He covers her chilly hand with his, long surgeon's fingers warm and comforting. "You make it look as though it is, Inara. And that's half the battle."

***

She is back in her shuttle when Mal and the others return, and she remains there through dinner. She's wallowing, and she knows it, but she can't quite bring herself to care. River's place on Serenity may be secure, regardless of what happens next, but hers is still hanging in the balance.

Kaylee brings her a plate and looks at her hopefully, but she can't quite bring herself to talk to Kaylee just yet, pretty Kaylee who has always had Mal's unconditional affection. Inara likes to think she's not jealous of their open, easy friendship, but sometimes she wonders what it would be like to know him the way Kaylee does.

All she says is, "Thank you, _bâobèi_. I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."

"Okay," Kaylee says, and her skepticism is clear in her voice, but she doesn't press, and Inara is grateful for that.

When she thinks it's safe--and this time if she runs into any private conversations she vows she will make herself known before the kissing starts--she heads to the kitchen to return the dishes and make some tea.

Zoe is there, cleaning her guns, but though she and Zoe have always been cordial, they are not close, and Inara feels no pressure to speak or dissemble in front of her. Zoe of all people understands the appeal of silence. Still, Inara can't quite help herself. When her tea is ready, she sits down at the table.

"Surely he'll listen to you," she says.

Zoe doesn't look up from polishing the barrel of her shotgun. "He don't need me to tell him he's being an idiot. Don't need you telling him either. Think he knows it pretty well."

"Zoe--"

"You really think the captain is like to do anything about this? He ain't exactly got a history of being...proactive in the romance department." She puts down the shotgun, picks up a revolver. "You and I both know the girl'll probably get over it soon enough. He knows it, too. Best if we all just let it be."

Inara can't taste her tea; her mouth is full of bitter words she forces herself not to say at hearing her own advice tossed back at her. "I think it's more than just infatuation," she says. "What if--"

Zoe cuts her off. "Don't go borrowing trouble, Inara. Ain't your place, and he won't take it kindly." She blinks, as if she's just heard her own words, and looks rueful. "I didn't mean--"

Inara takes a deep breath and rises. "No, you did. I understand."

"Inara--" Zoe wipes her hands on a clean rag and pushes back a lock of hair. "You're part of this crew now, whatever the captain might say when he's feeling tetchy. Have been for a long time. Question isn't whether he wants you to go--he doesn't. Question is, do you want to stay?"

"I--I don't know." She shakes her head. "Have a good night, Zoe."

As she lies in bed that night, eyes dry and sleepless, she asks herself that question, repeating it until the words are meaningless. She clears her mind of clutter, and prays for guidance.

When morning comes, she feels lighter, freer, knowing her decision is made. She refuses to doubt that it's the right one.

As she heads up the stairs to the bridge, River is coming down. She smiles, lit with a joy Inara can't begrudge her, and brushes her fingers along Inara's face before passing by.

Inara stops and stares out at the black for a moment--it's never any less beautiful or overwhelming, no matter how many times she's seen it, and its immensity overcomes her for a moment.

"Lots of delicate equipment up here," Mal says, interrupting her thoughts. "So if you're planning on throwing things, I'd take it as a kindness if we moved to the kitchen."

She shoots him a glare that makes him squirm, and she's glad she's still able to do that. "You're always claiming you want me to be honest, so I'm going to give you the honesty you crave." He nods and crosses his arms over his chest, visibly bracing himself.

"Right now, I'm still so angry with you that just looking at you turns my stomach," she says, her voice low and intense, "but Serenity is my home, and you are all my family, and I'm not going to let you drive me away from that."

"Good," he says, and she can see him relax. He looks as if he'd like to say something more, but instead he just repeats it. "Good."

And she knows, no matter how hard the next few months are, and how different from what she'd expected, she's found where she belongs.

end


End file.
